


Hunter's Moon

by bamf_Castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Dean, Canon-Typical Violence, Creature Castiel, Hunter Castiel, M/M, Older Castiel, Scars, Smoking, Stanford Era, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Werewolf Castiel, Werewolves, Younger Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12905841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamf_Castiel/pseuds/bamf_Castiel
Summary: Based on a prompt:"Okay. So Stanford era Dean, meets Cas a surly scruffy hunter multiple times, who is a damn genius with knives and always wears gloves on hunts (cause finger prints dean) and is just the hottest guy Deans ever seen, and Dads gone. Sams gone. He’s feeling a bit rebellious and a bit experimental. Except Cas, just happens to be a Remus lupin style werewolf... thoughts?"





	1. Chapter 1

Now that Dean thinks about it, deciding to take out a whole nest of vampires only by himself might actually have been a little miscalculation on his part.   
  
He tries to catch his breath while he watches his savior decapitate the last vampire in one effortless movement, the long blade cutting skin and tissue with almost surgical precision.   
  
How the hell he makes it look that easy?  
  
Dean has honestly no idea ; he knows from experience that it’s actually a fucking hard thing to do.  
  
And yet, the stranger doesn’t even seem to be out of breath as he looks down on the body laying on the ground, the head motionless right next to it, where it landed with a dull thud.   
  
Dean never saw anyone move like that ; from the moment he walked though the door, dude was like a machine.   
It was like the machete was not just a tool but simply an extension of his arm.   
And it paled in comparision to what he did with the knife he pulled out in the middle of the fight.   
  
 _He sliced the vampire open, from the belly to the base of the throat - how the fuck, there are bones in the way - and yanked the blade out - military, ten inches, sharp as hell - like it was nothing. The creature made a sound, awful and loud and wet, the blood coming out of it’s mouth landing on the man’s face, and then it’s head was off, rolling on the floor._  
The hunter didn’t even slow down, grabbing the next vampire’s hair.   
Dean would watch longer if he could, but the kick to his thigh successfully  directed his whole attention to the sharp teethed monster on his left.   
  
Dean know he’s good - very good - but next to this man he feels like a complete amateur.   
  
He winces when his boots make a terrible squelching sound when he moves ( God, did he step on intestines? please don’t let it be intestines ) and suddenly the stranger is looking straight at him.  
   
There are smears of blood on his face and clothes, some still fresh and some already starting to dry. And maybe it’s the red that makes Dean notice it, but the man has incredibly blue eyes, almost   
unnaturally so, bright even in the dim light of the old naked bulb swinging from the ceiling.   
  
He spits and slowly runs his tongue over his teeth - they look sharp, like everything about him - and then, he asks, „What the fuck were you thinking?”   
  
Dean is part distracted by how low and rough the man’s voice is, part really, really offended, but before he can answer with anything else but a choked out ’what’ , the stranger speaks again.   
  
„That’s what I would like to know, ” he says calmly, looking around and then, finding what he was looking for, he steps over a corpse and grabs a shirt hanging on the leg of an overturned table.   
He wipes the blade, looks at Dean again and sighs, „ Are you okay?”  
  
Dean wants to say a lot of things - he really does, starting from how he was doing pretty good, thank you very much, it’s not like he asked to be rescued, and also hey, fuck you.  
In the end he settles on a simple, „Yeah, I’m good.”   
  
The man nods and then looks around.   
  
„Let’s clean this up.”

* * *

  
The barn bursts into flames, the roar of the fire almost deafening, the heat making Dean take few steps back.   
  
Castiel - getting rid of evidence and dead bodies makes you close enough to exchange names - leans on his car, ankles crossed, and takes out a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket.   
He offers Dean one and he accepts, letting Castiel light it for him and inhaling the smoke; it tastes almost like the air around them, gasoline and fire and death.  
  
They stand in silence, and Dean can’t help but look at the other hunter; there is still dried blood on his clothes and hands and face, his eyes wild and dark as he watches the dancing flames.   
  
Dean can feel a blush creeping up his neck that has nothing to do with the fire when he looks at Castiel’s lips as they close around the cigarette.   
He has a strong jawline, sharp cheekbones and straight nose, dark stubble covering his cheeks and neck ; he’s Dean’s height - maybe a little shorter, board shoulders and strong hands, probably in his early thirties.   
  
He’s handsome, in a way Dean is still a little too young to be.   
  
It makes Dean’s heart beat faster, for some reason; how there is nothing of a boy anymore in the man’s features.  
  
He looks up only to see Castiel’s eyes focused on his own.   
  
Dean quickly looks away,  his hand trembling as he raises the cigarette to his lips and inhales, slowly letting the smoke curl in his mouth, letting it calm his nerves.   
  
His voice sounds rough when he says, „Thanks for, you know, saving my ass back there,”   
  
Castiel only hums and sends the remaining cigarette butt flying with a flick of fingers. He pushes away from the car and stands in front of Dean, his silhouette completely black against the flames. He looks to the side, to the abandoned house next to the barn and the forest that surrounds it.   
  
„Let’s get away from here.”

* * *

  
That’s how Dean finds himself trailing the Continental, first to a obscure gas station, where they visit the bathroom to wash off the blood and change into clean clothes, and then to a bar.   
  
Dean knows he should probably be more cautious, but there is something exciting about it, about working with someone who isn’t Bobby or John or a friend of theirs.  
  
Castiel orders whisky, straight, and when he looks questioningly at Dean he asks for the same - he needs something stronger to wash out the taste of smoke and blood still lingering in his mouth.   
  
They end up sitting at a table in a corner, far away from the rest of the patrons.   
  
Dean takes a sip of his drink, relishing in the way it burns all the way down, the taste alone making his muscle relax.  
  
It’s a dangerous relationship, he knows, feeling like that about whisky.   
If Castiel notices, he doesn’t say anything, instead leaning back on the chair.   
  
„So, Dean,” his voice dips lower, sounding even rougher thanks to the smoke, „What the fuck were you thinking about when you decided that you can take out a whole nest of vampires alone?”   
  
Dean bristles, hand tightening on the glass; he thought they leaved THAT part behind, but apparently not.   
  
„Hey, fuck you,” he snaps, „I knew what I was doing, okay? I’m not an amateur.”   
  
Castiel doesn’t look too bothered by his anger. He also doesn’t look too convinced; he hums, taking a sip from his glass, „ Oh I could see that. It was beautifully accented when those two jumped at you from behind. Did you even know they were there before they had you on the floor?”  
  
Dean clenches his teeth hard enough to feel the muscles of his jaw jump; he knows he fucked up - there is really no need to rub this into his face.   
  
Not now, not when he’s way too aware of what would his dad say about this kind of incompetence.   
  
„Dean, look at me,” the gentle command in Cas’s voice is unmistakable, and after a moment Dean looks up, right into those bright, bright blue eyes.   
  
„That’s the thing Dean - you are not an amateur. I know. You are good,” Castiel leans a little bit closer, „ But if you won’t be more careful, you will never get the chance to be anything more than that. You will die a stupid death like hundreds before you, before you really learn anything. And you can be very, very good, Dean. The potential is there, but it’s your decision what you will do with it,” he straightens and Dean can finally breathe again; to be the center of Castiel’s attention can be suffocating.   
  
„ If you are only willing to listen I can get us another round,” he nods at their drinks, „ and then we can discuss everything that went wrong tonight and what can you  do to make sure it won’t happen again.”  
  
Dean hesitates only for a moment.  
   
„Sounds good to me.”   
  
He could swear the corner of Castiel’s lips turned upward at that.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel comes back with two drinks and a napkin, which he all sets on the table and then proceeds to dig out a pen from his pocket.

He puts it with the napkin right in front of Dean - with an air of formality that makes Dean straighten - and sits back on his stool.

„ Now, let’s start with basics,” he nods at the items, „ Draw me a map. The barn, the house, I want to see all the doors, the-”

„ … windows, all possible escape routes, the distances between them, yeah, dude. I know, ” Dean finishes for him, frowning at the napkin and taking the pen; this is actually something he can do - like he said, he’s not am amateur. Miscalculations happen, but this is basic shit ; John made sure that Dean learned things like that.

He thinks he can see Castiel raising an eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything, so Dean starts to draw. The outlines go first; the buildings, all the windows and the doors - then the roads, the place where the Impala was hidden and waiting for him. Castiel is silent the whole time, sipping his drink and watching how Dean works. It’s kind of intimidating at first, to be the center of Castiel’s attention; it’s absolute, it’s weight almost making it a separate being.  
But after a while Dean finally relaxes, fully concentrating at his task, letting everything else become just a background noise. He can do it, and he can do it well. After he’s sure he put on the sketch everything he wanted to, he turns it around and slides it to Castiel. The man sets down his empty glass on the table and looks at the map, brows furrowing. For few long minutes neither of them speaks, Castiel focused on the plan and Dean anxiously playing with his drink and waiting for the verdict. Finally the older hunter looks at him and Dean tries really hard not to feel proud because of how impressed he looks.

„Maybe you could really get ot of it alive,” Castiel admits - which yeah, Dean could tell him that himself - and he looks at Dean, blue eyes dark in the dim room, „ But you would probably pass out in the car.”

Dean really wants to protest but no, yeah, that’s actually quite possible - he was really sure there are only six vamps inside; those two that jumped on him were a very unwanted - and extremely unneeded - addition. He’ pretty sure that he would survive it without help, but it would indeed be messy and ugly and he would definitely have problems with getting away after it.  
Hell, his left side is gonna be purple tomorrow, the same goes to his thigh; his whole body kinda really hates him right now and Castiel was the one who took out over half of them all by himself.

„ Probably,” he allows with a sigh, finishing his drink.

Castiel smirks and Dean’s heart totally doesn’t flutter at the sight, „ Less of stupidly heroically-suicidal bravery and you will be good.”

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Castiel is faster again.

„ It’s a sin that every single hunter out there commits notoriously,” he shrugs, „and you just got the chance to learn and avoid making the same mistake again.”

He makes everything sound so easy.

Dean raises his eyebrow, „How on earth am I supposed to do that?”

Turns out Castiel has some ideas.

 

* * *

 

 

They end up talking for hours, their voices hushed as they discuss past cases and possible new ones,as they talk about theoretical situations and their weird experiences. Dean learns that Castiel is pretty much a lone wolf - he prefers working alone, always did, not having to worry about anyone else. Dean on the other hand shares his experiences from the time when he was working with dad. It’s refreshing. Hell, it’s fun. He can finally take about things he know, about things he does, about what he knows he’s actually good at. Castiel tells him about that one time he got saved by a very determined older woman with a shotgun- and Dean has a feeling he does it only to make him feel better and it’s working.

„ She’s got fire in her heart Dean, ” he says, a little fond smile curving his lips, „ I lay there waiting for death and she just bursts in, graying curls like a halo around her head, a true angel of vengeance in an old bath robe,” Castiel looks at him with wide eyes, „ and after all she asks me if I am in a gang or selling drugs - Dean, don’t laugh, at that moment I wasn’t sure if I will survive it, she was scary - and when I said that no, I am not, she cursed at me and everyone else including God himself, and then took me home; she helped me to stitch my arm and made me food, Dean, it was surreal.”

And somewhere along the night, something between them shifts.

Dean doesn’t think he’s misinterpreting it, the way they lean so close to each other, how Castiel looks at him; it’s a dance he knows really well. He wonders if he can have more, if he could get the touch of Castiel’s hands and lips if he asked for it.

That why, when they finally leave the bar ( they are the last customers, the doors close behind them with a quiet click of the lock) he’s not ready for the night to end just yet. Castiel doesn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry, either. He slowly takes out the pack of cigarettes and lights one; he offers Dean one as well, and he accepts again, just to have an excuse to stay for a while longer. The night is cold, Dean’s fingers a little clumsy as he lights his cigarette.  
He doesn’t care though, not when Castiel is radiating heat from where he stands next to him.

( There is a thin silver scar running up Cas’s upper lip; Dean can’t stop looking at it )

„So,” he says, wincing at how rough his voice sounds; he clears his throat and tries again, „ So. What are you gonna do now?”

He can see Castiel shrug from the corner of his eye.

„Drive north, find a case, close a case, repeat” Castiel tips his head back, looking at the dark, moonless sky.

There are no stars out tonight either.

A silence settles between them after that, Dean not really sure what else to say. He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, trying not to feel disappointed, a part of him hoping that maybe, just maybe, Castiel would suggest working on something together.

( Even though he told Dean this is not his style; even though they are still only strangers bound by the same profession. It’s stupid, Dean knows, and he still can’t help it. )

He feels a little rise of panic when Castiel drops the remains of his cigarette on the ground and slowly starts to go in the direction of his car. Before he can really think about what he’s doing, he grabs his sleeve, his own cigarette dropping on the pavement.

Castiel stops and looks at him questioningly, eyebrows raised.

For some reason, Dean’s tongue feels like lead. He let’s go of Castiel’s jacket and clears his throat, again. He looks at the ground, suddenly feeling embarrassed by what he did. And he can’t even blame the alcohol; they didn’t really drink much, too absorbed in their conversation to even remember about their drinks.

„Dean?”

„Casti- Cas,” he takes a deep breath „ I was just… uh, if you would like to… My motel is really close if you would want to, you know, stay,” he licks his lips, „ for a little while longer,” He finally has the courage to look at Castiel, peeking at him from under his lashes, afraid of what he will see.

There is something soft in Cas’s blue eyes, something gentle in the relaxed line of his mouth.

„Yeah,” he answers quietly, and suddenly Dean feels light as a feather „I would like to.”

„ That’s - that’s good. Awesome,” the excitement makes him giddy, something he hasn’t felt for - well, a pretty long time, „Follow me?”

Castiel nods.  
  


* * *

 

Dean fumbles a little with the keys to his room when he’s trying to open the doors, sighing with relief when he finally manages to do it.

Castiel doesn’t say anything, just waits patiently behind him, hands in the pockets of his jacket. Dean doesn’t do this too often - take men home, that is - he’s on his own for only few months, and it took him weeks so finally gather up the courage to do it for the first time. To finally try all the things he always wanted to, without the fear that someone will catch him on it.

Dean opens the doors wide and let’s Cas in, turning on the light. The room is all kind of shitty - the whole motel is shitty - but for the first time in ages Dean doesn’t really feel ashamed because of it; Cas doesn’t seem like someone who would judge, not when he himself knows the life. He drops the keys on the table and turns around, watching Castiel close the doors behind him; one quiet click and they are completely alone once again.

This time it’s different , no evidence to get rid of, no bodies to burn.

The thrill is almost all the same though, the air between them getting heavier and heavier with every passing minute. It makes Dean think about the minutes before a storm in the summer, when you can taste electricity on your tongue with every breath.

Cas’s eyes are not soft anymore - they are dark and predatory and Dean can’t look away.

He moves from the doors and starts walking in Dean’s direction, his every move slow and deliberate. Dean’s breath hitches when Cas stops right in front of him, blue eyes never leaving his own when he rises his hand and slowly puts it on Dean’s cheek.

( it’s rough and big and oh so warm )

He stops then, and says quietly, „ Am I interpreting your invitation right?”

„ Yeah,” Dean breathes, he’s so very right, holy shit. Cas relaxes and his hand slowly sliding down to rest on the side of Dean’s neck.

„ I would really like to kiss you, Dean, ” he almost purrs, and his voice is like whisky and honey and smoke, low and gravely and perfect, „ May I?”

Dean nods with a quiet, „Yes, please,” and he doesn’t miss the little satisfied noise that Cas makes just before leaning in and putting their lips together.

The kiss is slow, Cas’s fingers on the back of Dean’s neck, his stubble scraping on Dean’s lips and sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. Cas gently bites Dean’s bottom lip, his other hand landing on Dean’s hip, pulling him closer. Dean makes a breathy little noise when they finally end up pressed together, his hands buried in Cas’s hair. They are gonna be so much more messy right now, and dammit, if Dean doesn’t feel good to be the one who caused it. He tugs on the soft strands and Cas actually growls, sliding his lips lower, to bite sharply on Dean’s neck.

Dean gasps, a quiet „fuck,” leaving his mouth, and his hands tighten on Cas’s hair; the man licks the place he just bit and places a light kiss on top of it.  
His lips land on Dean’s again, connecting them in a kiss that leaves Dean breathless, Cas’s tongue in his mouth, his hands under Dean’s shirt. Dean manages to take a few little steps in the direction of the bed before Cas breaks the kiss.

Dean opens his eyes - when did he close them? - and it’s meet with burning blue. A shiver runs down his spine; he feels almost like a prey, and maybe for the first time in his life he has absolutely no intentions to run away.

He wants to give the man in front of him everything he might want.

Cas slowly slips the leather jacket from Dean’s shoulders; it lands on the floor with a quiet sound, the plaid shirt and t-shirt following quickly after.  
His own jacket joins them, and then he focuses back on Dean.  
Cas takes his time with undressing Dean, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed and kneeling to unlace and take off his boots. Dean can feel the blush rising high on his cheeks; seeing Cas between his legs does all kind of things to him.

The man looks up at him, and smiles, a little dark thing that makes Dean’s heart speed up; Cas’s hands slowly move up from his ankles, to the underside of his knees, to lay heavily on the inside of Dean’s thighs, spreading them wider.

He moves closer, to place a hot kiss on the center of Dean’s chest, and then another one lower, and lower. Dean’s legs tighten on Cas’s sides, goosebumps rising on his skin.  
The little trail ends just above the fly of Dean’s jeans, which Cas undoes with sure fingers; Dean is ridiculously hard at this point and he can’t even bring himself to care about anything else but Cas’s touch.

He raises his hips a little when Cas inches his jeans and boxers down, his breath shuddering on the exhale when cold air of the room hits the hot skin of his erection.

He doesn’t even have time to complain, because the next second Cas’s mouth it’s on him and God, he’s going to die.

He moans, hands tangled in Cas’s hair for the second time this night, muscles of his stomach and thighs jumping when Cas does things with his tongue that are absolutely magical and probably illegal.  
Strong hands hold his hips down when Cas sucks at the head of his dick, they caress his sides when Cas’s laps at him, his breath hot on the wet skin.  
Dean almost chokes on his tongue when Castiel takes him whole - like it’s nothing and having a gag reflex is for the weak - and then he hums and Dean sees stars for a second.

It doesn’t help that when he looks down he meets Cas’s eyes, dark and hungry and fixed on Dean’s face.  
He slowly eases up and Dean can’t look away, mesmerized by the way Cas’s lips move up his cock, ending their journey with a little kiss to the head.

He tugs Cas up and kisses him, unable to stop the needy sound when he tastes himself on Cas’s tongue; it shouldn’t be hot, but God, it really is.

Cas crawls up his body, pushing him further on the bed ; Dean manages to kick off his jeans completely and it would be glorious except it’s not; Cas is still wearing a lot of clothes.

It makes Dean shiver; he feels vulnerable, completely naked when Cas is still fully dressed. It somehow makes his arousal spike even higher though, when he feels the rough denim on the skin of his thighs.

Dean still wants to touch, wants to feel Cas in the same way Cas can now feel him.

„Cas, come on, the clothes- ,” he grabs Cas’s shirt and tugs, trying not to get distracted by the lips currently sucking on his neck.

Castiel stops and rises his head, and looks at Dean for a long, long moment. Before Dean can ask if he did anything wrong Cas straightens, sitting between Dean’s thighs, and takes off his shirt.

Then, Dean understands.

Cas has a lot of scars.

They run down his sides, cross his chest and belly, rise on his shoulders and powerful arms.  
He’s a hunter after all, and like many of them he has his history written on his body.

Though Dean has to admit it’s an especially violent one.

Some of them are old - already turned silver, standing out against his tan skin - some fresh enough to still be bright pink. He runs his fingers over them, traces the raised edges, slowly going from the ones on Cas’s ribs to his forearm.  
Castiel lets him, remains motionless and silent where he’s towering above Dean.

Dean lets out a breath when his fingertips find the massive scar that first caught his eyes; it’s one of the oldest by the looks of it, and it was not one made by blade or a bullet or claws.

It’s a bite; and whatever left it had to be fucking huge, the distance between each teeth alone -  
Castiel gently frees his arm from Dean’s hands and catches his chin, making Dean look up at him.

He slowly runs his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip and it makes Dean’s breath hitch.

„Eyes on me, Dean,” he says softly, so quietly it’s almost a whisper, and then he leans down and they are kissing again.

Dean want to say that this is exactly what he did, but yeah, he gets it; eyes on Cas, not on his past - it’s not a particularly nice one, it would seem.

But then again, hunters rarely get anything else.

He’s not here to think about it though, and he can distract Cas from it for a while, too.  
  
He puts everything in the kiss, hands slipping under the waistband of Cas’s jeans.  
Castiel groans when Dean’s fingers brush over the head of his cock, and Dean actually feels the sound on his skin, low and rough and sending shivers up his spine. He opens Cas’s belt, the click of metal loud in the room, and he fumbles for a moment with the fly.

Cas kisses his shoulder - which doesn’t help, especially when he feels the hint of teeth on his skin - and he finally can slip his hand into Cas’s boxers and really touch him.

Castiel shudders above him when he encloses his hand around Cas’s cock - Jesus Christ, dude is huge - and gives him an experimental tug.

„Dean,” Cas’s voice is husky, almost a growl, his breath ghosting over Dean’s ear. Dean looks at him then; his eyes are almost completely black, the electric blue swallowed by the pupils, hair messy and teeth bared in something close to a snarl.

He looks wild, absolutely beautiful, and Dean wants more.

„ Cas,” he says, his own voice rough, the word turning into a moan as Cas grabs his hair and pulls, mouthing at the exposed skin of his throat. Dean has a feeling he’s going to wear a collar of bruises for days, and the thought makes heat pool low in his belly; he wants it.

He must’ve said something, because Cas’s stops what he’s doing, and Dean wants to whine at the lost, but then Cas is speaking, his voice nothing but liquid desire, „ Yeah? What do you want, Dean?”

God, he wants everything.

„ Kiss me, mark me- ” he breathes, and his voice breaks at what he wants to say, but he forces the words out of his mouth, fighting against embarrassment, „ fuck me. ”

He feels his skin heat at his own words, at the way Castiel is looking at him right now.

The man hums, running his hands up and down Dean’s sides, and then he leans down, their lips almost brushing when he speaks.

„ I will give you all that, but you have to ask nicely, Dean.”

Dean’s heart flutters, as he looks at Castiel with wide eyes, he can’t possibly - he can’t -

„ Cas-, Castiel, please. ”

Castiel smiles at this, a little thing full of pride and warmth.

„Good boy. ”

Dean shudders. He usually dislikes it when people call him boy, he really does - but to hear Cas say it like that? To hear it in that gravely voice? It's - it's something else.

Cas kisses him quickly and then straightens and looks around, „ Where - ”  
„ Duffel bag next to the table, right pocket,” Dean says quickly before C  
as can finish, which earns him a raised eyebrow and a quiet huff of laughter.

„Eager, ” Cas teases before getting up and fishing out the lube and pack of condoms from the bag. Dean licks his lips, watching as he throws the items on the bed and then finally takes off his shoes and jeans.

He’s glorious, tan and muscled, everything about him screaming power.

For a second Dean gets a little self conscious about how soft his belly is, but then Cas crawls back onto the bed, back between Dean’s legs, and yeah, okay.  
Their eyes meet and Dean swallows and slowly spreads his legs a little further, to make more room for Cas.

Cas’s lips curve at that, and he purrs out a good before opening the bottle of lube.  
He warms up the liquid between his fingers, and Dean shivers before Cas even touches him, the anticipation making his muscles jump.

„ Easy, Dean, ” Cas whispers, his clean hand coming to rest on Dean’s hip, the touch grounding „ just relax.”

There is nothing that could stop the breathy sound that escaped Dean’s lips when Castiel’s slick fingers finally swipe over his hole.  
He kisses the inside of Dean’s knee, stubble scraping on the sensitive skin, as his finger slowly slips inside.

Dean shudders, unable to look away from Cas.

Castiel takes his time, slowly opening Dean up on his fingers, sucking marks and biting the pale skin of his inner thighs in the meantime.  
By the time he’s got three fingers in, Dean is a mess.  
He’s sweaty and breathless and his skin is hypersensitive, Cas alternating between being ridiculously tender and really fucking rough.

And God, the wet sound his fingers make moving inside Dean ; it’s both obscene and so, so hot.

„Cas, Cas, come on, please, come on, fuck me,” Dean doesn’t care if he’s babbling - if Cas won’t hurry up he’s gonna die.

He can see that Cas is not unaffected, his movements getting impatient, breath speeding up; and finally, finally Cas slips his fingers out - Dean whines at the loss, but it’s good, he can wait, because Cas grabs the condoms.  
It takes him only a moment to open the package and put it on, stroking himself with the lubed hand once, before he shuffles closer and slowly sinks into Dean.  
They both moan when Cas’s breaches Dean’s hole, his cock much wider than his fingers have been; the burn is exquisite, and Dean’s whole body sings with pleasure.

Cas slides in slowly, giving Dean time to adjust, stoping for few long moments when his hips are finally flush with Dean’s ass.

Dean finally moves under him, impatient, with a breathless, „Yeah, come on.”

Cas starts almost lazily, swallow thrusts that are nothing more than a tease; Dean can’t stop looking at him though, at the powerful muscles moving under the tan skin, at the way he looks at where they are joined, how he watches himself slide into Dean.

It’s hot as hell, and it gets only better when Cas looks up and snaps his hips forcefully when their eyes lock.

The shot of pleasure makes Dean’s mouth open in a low moan and his toes curl; Castiel growls, upper lip peeling back, and he finally moves. His thrusts are powerful, hard enough to rattle the bed and make Dean cry out in absolute bliss; he leans down to mouth at Dean’s neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of marks behind.

Dean keeps talking, choked out nonsense and pleas and something that could be words if Cas wasn’t taking him apart with his skilled mouth and hands and cock.

Castiel murmurs praise into his skin, sweetly hot words that would make him blush if there was any brain cell left that wasn’t occupied by the wild fire of pleasure and desire he’s currently feeling.

It doesn’t take Dean much time to get close to the edge, his hands desperately grabbing for Cas, asking him to Cas, touch me, please, baby, touch me .  
Cas makes a noise in the back of his throat and slips his hand between them, grabbing Dean’s cock and stroking him in the rhythm of his thrust.  
It takes only few snaps of his hips and Dean comes, painting both of their bellies white, his world going black for a second. Cas fucks him through it, and Dean finally sees him really losing his composure, his movements getting rougher and faster, hands impatient on Dean’s skin.

Dean feels boneless, Cas’s every move sending sparks of pleasure-pain through his oversensitive body; he looks Cas in the eyes, bottomless pools of stormy blue.  
He leans up to kiss him, and he can hear Cas gasp into his mouth right before he actually feels him coming, Cas’s hips stuttering and stoping, him heavy and hot above Dean.

They lie like that for a while before Cas eases up with a quiet sigh. Dean winces a little as Cas slips out from him, but he says nothing.

„I will be back in a second,” Cas’s voice is hoarse as he get’s up from the bed to discard the used condom in the bin, and then goes to the bathroom. He comes back with a towel.

„Can I?” he asks, gesturing at Dean - he himself is more or less cleaned up, Dean notices, and he nods.

Cas cleans him up, his touches sure but gentle. It’s a little bit awkward, but Dean is too tired to actually mind. After Cas finishes he goes to drop the dirty towel on the bathroom floor, and then he stands in front of the bed, looking unsure.  
Dean rises up the covers that he crawled under the moment he was clean enough to actually do it.

He swallows, and looks down before suggesting, „Stay?”

Castiel doesn’t answer, and for a moment Dean feels the cold heaviness of shame and disappointment settling in his stomach; but then the light gets turned off and the bed dips as Cas slides next to him under the covers. Dean lets out a shaky breath and turns around, his back to Castiel.

After a moment of silence he hears a quiet, „ Come here, ” and a strong arm wraps around his middle and tugs him closer; his back flush with Cas’s chest, a little kiss placed on the back of his neck.

He relaxes, his limbs heavy; he’s almost completely sure he mumbles out a ‚ _goodnight_ ’ before he fals asleep.  
  


* * *

 

When Dean wakes up in the morning, the air of the room motionless and cold, he’s alone.


End file.
